The body has opposable thumbs.The mind has opposable thoughts.~Vicki Woodyard

I have a fatal flaw; I am human. And no matter how many nondualists are dancing on the head of a pin, they are flawed as well. The argument of their nonstop clarity and purity holds no water. As someone said, “We are the fallen people.” If you care to argue that statement, just monitor your mind for a few days. Even a few moments will do.

“The doctor is on time. Fancy that. The idiot doesn’t remember that he asked to see my X-rays and I made a special trip to procure them. So now I have to wait while he mumbles at the nurse to get them. And he comes back in with this silly expression that telegraphs, “Don’t waste my time.” I say to him, “You remind me of Dr. Spaceman on 30 Rock” and he sniffs, “I don’t watch much TV.” He hands me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and says, “For goodness sakes, stop taking it if it makes you sick.” Yeah, Mister Doctor Spaceman.

My teacher taught enlightenment from the dark side of the moon. He shone his beam of awareness in the basement until the nasty little fiends stood there trembling in fear. I oughta know; I was one of them. I had a sarcastic little self that was selfish, pushy and terrified. Thankfully, everyone else did, too. So I was not alone.

My teacher went to his death without divulging a single spiritual experience to us. I am so grateful for that.

Vicki Woodyard

Good morning, Friends,

I find myself with a blank slate today, which is a good thing. At the center of the spiral I am a reed pipe. All I have to do is get out of the way and let the Word write itself. Oh, it knows how. Trusting in its wisdom evokes my slate of unknowing.

It is good to start in darkness, descending into the dungeon of old habits. They are slaving away to keep you unaware of your deepest and darkest sorrow. They would distract you with, in my case, licorice allsorts and some leftover chocolate Easter eggs. Better to continue down, down, down into the pain.

Last night I dreamt of our beloved dog, Wendy. Her mother was a white German shepherd and her father was a collie. She had short hair and was enormous. She loved so much and so deeply that she talked to people in an approximation of conversation. If you said, “Hello, Wendy, how are you?” She would always answer you in a few hoarse talkative barks. In the dream I said, “I love you, Wendy,” and she spoke the words in plain English. When I woke up I felt heartbroken, as if I didn’t appreciate the unconditional love she gave us all.

My little woebegone heart contains the heart of the universe. Hallelujah. It weeps for its lost loves as I sleep unknowingly on. Perhaps it curls itself up around the heart of God and knows primordial peace. Once awake, I find myself in the body of Vicki Woodyard, she with her eye on the allsorts and the Easter eggs. God bless her. And God bless us, everyone.

From the Desk of Swami Z

While Vicki is gone, I will make occasional appearances. See the essay below that I received from her.

Swami and I sat in the kitchen, me resting from my insane desire to ingest more sugar.

“What is this weight gain about?” I asked. “My self-control went out the window about Halloween and now here it is post-Easter and I have packed the pounds on.”

He looked at me scornfully, snickering into his tea, which had a curl of steam rising off of it. “First you have a Self,” he said, and then you bring in another self to control it. That would be your ego. It is your ego that loves sugar, makes you eat it, feel guilty about it and then try to control your weight. Sheesh!”

I rolled my eyes, one of the few things that wasn’t fat about me. “Now that I have brought all of these selves in, what am I to do about them?” I wailed. “Like the fat, they are clinging to me like there is no tomorrow.” I should never have said the word tomorrow.That is one of Swami’s “Don’t get me started” words.

“Tomorrow,” he sniffed. “Don’t get me started. (But sadly, I had.) “Tomorrow is a song from “Annie.” It has no reality. And neither do any of your fat little selves.

He left the room as if on the way to a fire.

Hours later he came back in, picking up right where he left off. Your true self is weightless. Once you figure that out, you’ll be floating on air. He did just that, winked at me, and descended gently back into his chair. “How’s that for a little levity?” he asked.

“I am writing you, so you should know how that is. It’s like giving birth to oneself and naming it a million different things. You are truly all over the map. Some say you are visiting them while they sleep. Is that true?”

“I am with you always. How can it be otherwise? Surely they must be visiting ME.” Swami is always right. He has never left me. And that is the direction in which this essay is going.

It is impossible to miss out on your destiny. Every thing else can safely be “missed out.”

The only logical conclusion to come to is that logic has no place in destiny; therefore, you can trust the illogical, unexplainable and unendurable. Love is behind it all.

Dear Ones,

I have two books for sale now! LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT, which is about how I survived the dark night of my soul and it’s companion book, A Guru in the Guest Room.

I need your help in getting the word out about the books. Why? Because some of you may know people that would enjoy or benefit from them. People that I have no way of reaching. Would you be so kind as to email a few friends and let them know? And if you haven’t ordered copies yet, I would love to see that happen.

If you feel that you can’t afford the full price, make a $5 donation to the website (Use the PayPal button) and I will email you the pdf version of either or both books. Now there’s a deal!

For that price you can also have me email the books in pdf form to a friend. If you enjoy my writing and want to help a budding writer out, that would be a win-win for both of us.

Thanks and love,
Vicki

P.S. The ordering links for the books in paperback are on this website.

Dear Readers,

I am putting the link to The Swami Z Store here.

I am hoping that you will order A Guru in the Guest Room in paperback at the link above. Many of you have read my first book, Life With A Hole In It, which is available on amazon.com. I wrote A Guru in the Guest Room at the same time. Now I have two books that came out of “the dying years” with my beloved Bob. Swami Z took birth to lead me into healing—into seeing that the spark of love and humor in me could not be destroyed. And so I present him to the public now. I feel that those who are attracted to the energy of this book will find it enormously appealing. That is my prayer.

Love,
Vicki

No one is ordering A Guru in the Guest Room. Such a shame. These are companion books in a very interesting sense. I have them both where I can see them now as a gift I gave myself. One day people will discover what I mean. Love was scattering crumbs of laughter as I wept along a troubled road.

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

It has long been said that there are people who know that they are the One that live in caves in the remote regions of the world. I am here to reveal a little known secret. I live in a suburban cave. It is easily done. Just tick the box before birth that says: I choose to live the life of the One among the many in solitude, and voila, you are born into seclusion. That’s how it happened for me, or so I like to think.

My seclusion is enforced by a strict spiritual law. Birds of a feather flock together. And apparently my feather is unlike any others. What a frickin’ relief. Thank you, Jesus.

Jesus was a man of sorrows and I have been a woman of that persuasion. My tomb has been made of cedar siding and I reside in it comfortably, sharing it with assorted birds, squirrels and the occasional raccoon. They all leave their calling cards, chewed on boards and the like. But inside, the peace rages like a mighty cleansing fire. And silence rings through the rafters (along with the TV, truth be told.)

So here I follow my calling. What is it, you may well be asking? I am never quite sure what it is, only THAT it is. So I stumble forward, one word at a time entered in the Mac, certain that some of you are receiving me loud and clear. It is for you I write.

In This Hermitage

In this hermitage I have spent 8 years caring for the dying. My own daughter and husband. Let that sink in. Oh, I have written it many times but suddenly I want it to blaze like a fire, want it to burn up any last shreds of guilt I have about how I live my life.

God said in unspoken words (He uses sign language). I will be taking your daughter and then your husband. You and your son will be okay; it will be a long-lasting purification, however. I will be with you. I will turn you into a writer. Something like a psalmist. You will write for me as best you can, through your afflictions and forward into peace. You will testify to your own failures so I can heal them. Speak the truth.

And I have.

My writing has taken an upward turn after years of spiraling back into darkness. I was told that my second book would take a different path than my first. I was also told that the first one would be bought by a publishing house down the road and become a healing source for many. Whether that will happen is yet to be revealed. I do know that my past, present and future are one and the same.

Every evening I speak to my late husband, and trust me, what I say is nothing like what I said to him when he was alive. For I have learned the greatest lesson of all; appreciate your loved ones while you can. Time is an illusion, but one that the body lives by and in. I used to nag him; now I say how deeply I love him. This softens my life around the edges in a way that nothing else can.

I wrote my way out of hell while I was in hell. Even after his death, my fingers knew how to find the source of healing; it lay within my ability to keep on keeping on. I wondered how to deepen my calling, for I knew I had one. I found a dear friend that “sees.” Although I have never met her, I am free to call her from time to time when I have questions about the way things are unfolding for me. She always leads me back home by asking a key question, “Do you WANT to do it?” For she sees that this is a time in my life when I am free to ask that question. And the answer is usually “no.” She shows me that honoring my essence is the key to my peace of mind.

I know what I am about. I know how important solitude is for my writing. I cherish it, as I cherish the very few that relate to me on a regular basis. They are people who feed my soul and then I, in turn, can feed many. I do this by pecking away at the keyboard off and on during the day. I revel in communication like this. When I can make people giggle, that is the high point of my day.

Of course, I never shy away from making you cry, either, for I have walked that road. I know every twist and turn of it. I know that nothing beats a good cleansing cry for cleaning the doors of perception. And then we can walk on. And sometimes we fly.

Please consider ordering a copy of either book, LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT or A Guru in the Guest Room, which is also available in Kindle format.